


Infidelity (Only You)

by a2zmom



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Bondage, Multi, Post-Canon, Song Title Meme, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-04
Updated: 2009-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-13 08:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a2zmom/pseuds/a2zmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We do what we must.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infidelity (Only You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thecarlysutra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/gifts), [mjinaspen](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mjinaspen).



Buffy stared in the mirror as she pulled her lips taut against her teeth and carefully applied her lipstick. Rolling her lips once, twice, she stepped back to examine the full effect. Subtle gray eye shadow and black mascara highlighted her eyes giving her a slightly sultry look. Blush was a soft rose, blended in so as not to give her face the striped look that models seemed to favor for some odd reason. It was the lipstick where she had decided to let her intentions be known. The deep wine color made her lips look fuller, poutier. She narrowed her eyes and smiled.

She leaned forward a bit, staring into the mirror as if trying to catch a glimpse of something. She didn't know why she bothered; the only thing reflected was her bed, covered in dark blue sheets. The comforter wasn't even on the bed; it was currently neatly folded and put away.

She stood up and slowly turned, running her hands sensuously down the sides of her body. The silk blouse was almost the same color as the lipstick and she had unbuttoned one more than was actually safe. Her black leather skirt was a good two inches above her knee and had just enough give for dancing but bending over was pretty much an impossibility. She wished she could manage heels higher than two and a half inches, but it just wasn't practical. Besides, she didn't think she'd have any problem finding a partner at the club.

Only one decision left, hair up or down. She let her hand trail down the side of her neck until it rested in the junction where her shoulder started. There really hadn't been any question at all. She quickly twisted her hair and pinned it up. She took one last look, and headed out the door.

The cab was already waiting and once she gave the address, she let her thoughts drift. She felt a mixture of nervousness and anticipation, a cocktail of contradictory emotions with which she was familiar from her early days of slaying. It had taken her a long time to admit how much she enjoyed slaying. How the violence itself was a turn on. That there was a darkness in her. Spike had opened her eyes to that.

Spike.

A lot of time has passed and she still didn't know exactly what her feelings were in regards to him. Anger, certainly. The fact that she hadn't even known that he had been resurrected had hurt her deeply. One more person who deserted her. And knowing he had died in a dirty alley, taking on an army of evil meant that there was no possibility of ever reconciling her feelings for him. She wondered what would have happened if he had survived. She supposed he'd be in the cab next to her right now, his hand inching up her skirt, silencing her shocked giggle with a kiss. They'd be looking forward to a night of dancing together and later, a more intimate type of dancing. She pushed the thoughts away. She wasn't that girl anymore, tittering over being felt up in a taxi. Thinking like that was pointless and felt like a betrayal besides. What ifs didn't buy you much and could turn out to be dangerous in her line of work.

Eric looked around the club, his nervousness plain. He wondered if he should just go. But, he reminded himself, wasn't that exactly why he was here?

Then she stepped into the club. She wasn't the prettiest girl there; there were at least a dozen other girls who had more exotic looks and larger assets. But she had a confidence that called to him, a sureness that made him want to get close to her. He was glad he had decided to stay.

He was aware of her every move, even as he danced with other women. She switched partners after every song, dancing indiscriminately with both sexes. She was looking for something, he knew that much but he couldn't figure out what. There seemed to be no common physical characteristic, nothing similar among those graced with her brief attentions.

Finally, she moved to the bar and he approached her seconds later.

She drank some girly fruity connection while he sipped a Coors. She didn't look like a Buffy to him. True she was tiny and blonde, but he didn't imagine she'd ever been flighty or silly. Now that he was next to her, he could feel an energy sparking off of her that made him want to touch her.

Buffy gave Eric a careful appraisal, but made sure he was unaware of her scrutiny. He was cute in that boyish way that women often found appealing.

He had laughed when she told him her name and didn't apologize for it. He redeemed himself by telling her he suspected she fooled a lot of people with that name. He didn't know the half of it.

She opened her purse and slid enough money across the bar to pay for both their drinks. Eric raised an eyebrow, but didn't protest. “Not intimidated by a strong woman?” she said smiling playfully.

“Should I be?” he asked, smiling back.

When he moved away from the bar and held out his hand in an invitation to dance, she followed.

They fit together perfectly on the dance floor. He was only average height with a lithe build, but Eric knew women found his bedhead tousled hair and gray eyes attractive. When the song ended, she didn't move away, but kept dancing to the deep booming bass of the next song.

He looked up and realized they were being watched intently by one of her earlier partners. He couldn't help the grin that crept across his face, She had chosen him and he stepped a little closer to her. She turned slightly at the movement and also caught sight of the other man. Her hands moved behind him, so close to his back that he could feel the warmth of her skin.

She pulled back briefly and he could see something cold and calculating flit across her face. A warning sounded that she was more dangerous than she appeared and he should walk away. At that moment, her hands skimmed lower still not touching him and he shivered slightly. He could see the other man staring at them, his want obvious. Eric's skin felt electrified and when Buffy's hand lightly brushed his side, the sensation coursed through his body. She was leaning into him, her breath feathering against his face.

"My place?" she whispered.

He found it impossible to formulate a response and he simply nodded in answer.

He was three steps behind her on the stairs and she could practically feel her skin warming up from his staring. She knew his eyes were on her ass, the short skirt riding up with each step she climbed. His breath was becoming a bit labored. She smiled at the knowledge that it wasn't completely due to the four flights that they had just walked.

Eric quickly surveyed the living room as Buffy went to put away their coats. It seemed to have been decorated by a schizophrenic; the authentic-looking reproduction Chippendale table coexisting uneasily with the obviously inexpensive oatmeal-tweed couch. The cheap particleboard shelving housed a variety of small sculptures and various object d'art, each a tiny masterpiece. He found himself intrigued by the contradictions he saw on display.

The bedroom also seemed to have something of a split personality; the bed frame, dresser, vanity and mirror were all plain, inexpensive pieces of furniture. But the way the lamplight glinted over the deep blue bed linens told him that it was silk. The chair that was angled catty cornered to the bed had a gilt frame and a satin seat.

Over the years Buffy had become adept at reading people. His eyes darted around the room and his shoulders were just a tad too squared off. Obviously, one night stands weren't his normal mode of operation. She wondered idly if he had just come off a bad break-up. She smiled inwardly. It wasn't often she found a virgin.

“There are a few things you should know,” her voice extra perky. “I go to the doctor regularly and I've got a clean bill of health. If you want I can show you my test results. And I'm on the pill so no pregnancy worries.”

In truth, she didn't think she was capable of getting any type of diseases any more. The slayer within her kept getting stronger. And as far as pregnancy...A year ago, she looked through the Watcher's diaries. There had never been a recorded case of a slayer getting pregnant once called. One more thing taken away from her.

“So, condom or not, it's up to you. Whichever way you feel more comfortable is fine.”

She watched as he absent mindedly drummed his fingers against her dresser. The reality of the situation had set in and it was unnerving him a bit.

“No condom,” he finally whispered, still not moving.

"More interested in the decor than me?" Buffy mock pouted.

He startled, licking his lip in an unconscious display of tension. She gazed at him until he returned her stare, letting him see the heat in her expression.

"No, you,” he stated.

She smirked and motioned toward the chair. "Let's make sure of that."

She took a few steps away from him and turned so that she was facing toward him and the open door of the room. She knew from this angle she could be seen in the mirror, adding to the effect that she wanted to create. She slowly opened the next two buttons of her top, letting the shirt slide down her shoulders. The tops of her breasts were clearly visible now and she slowly caressed then while keeping her eyes focused on Eric. His mouth was slightly open, his breathing becoming a bit shallower. She finished removing her blouse and let it fall to the floor. The rose colored bra pushed her breasts together and was sheer enough that she knew the blush of her nipples were plainly visible.

She unzipped her skirt and slowly wiggled out of it. She could tell by Eric's sudden intake of breath that he liked what he saw. She hadn't removed her shoes and the black stockings were being held up by a lacy garter belt that was the same color as her bra. She wasn't wearing any panties and she didn't have to look at him to know he was staring at the neatly clipped triangle of hair.

She took two steps until she was directly in front of him. He started to get up, but before he had straightened up, she was pushing on his shoulders so that he was kneeling in front of her.

One of his hands began to trail along the soft flesh of her inner thigh, exploring the map of her body through touch. His mouth followed, his tongue leaving wet slicks along her skin. His hands were wrapped around her upper legs, gently pushing them apart, while his mouth languidly explored her, as if she were a slowly melting ice cream and he was catching each delicious drip.

Her body was tense now, that delicious high right before she fell off the cliff. She found that release each night when she went hunting, that release of adrenaline convincing her she was still alive. And now she needed it again so she gripped his shoulders harder and pushed herself flush against his mouth, riding his tongue as it rubbed perfectly against her swollen clit. Her orgasm rushed through her, leaving her momentarily breathless and then she pushed away from him.

She beckoned for him to stand up. His length was clearly visible now, straining against his pants. Men. So easy in the end.

Standing on tiptoe, she licked her juices off his face as if she were a cat lapping cream. "Your turn."

She helped him shed his clothes and looked appraisingly as his cock sprang up, released from its confines. The head was already a deep red, the vein on the underside seeming to pulse. She gently led him backwards the two steps, sitting him at the edge of the bed. Kneeling in front of him, she pulled the head into her mouth without any preamble. Opening her mouth wider, she slid down his hard flesh, letting her tongue stroke the underside. She pulled back up, sucking hard, letting her teeth graze the slick head. She moved up and down, each time speeding up a bit until she could feel him getting even harder, filling her mouth. This time as she pulled up she let go of him completely, giving a quick lick to the fluid filled hole first.

"What?" he said, somewhat dazed.

"You don't want this to be over already, do you?" She turned and sauntered over to her dresser, making sure she swayed her hips. She quickly retrieved what she wanted and she walked back.

"What's that?" The suspicion in his voice was evident.

"It won't hurt."

“Not exactly the most reassuring thing you could have said. What if I say no?"

She shrugged, obviously unconcerned. "That's fine. No harm, no score." She noticed his confused look. "I meant, we'll both get dressed; you'll go your way and I'll go mine."

His eyes narrowed a bit as he processed what she was implying. "This won't hurt?" She shook her head, causing her breasts to jiggle as she let her fingers glide across his cock in one long stroke. He groaned, bucking into her hand, shaking his head yes.

She bent over him, her expression a study in concentration as she picked up the long thin strap. Grasping his cock, she fastened it securely, behind his balls and around the base of his dick. "Now that didn't hurt, did it?"

He looked warily at Buffy, shaking his head the tiniest bit.

She smiled and then took him deep in her mouth, sucking him hard while her hands squeezed and rolled his balls. He thrust hard several times, her tongue flicking along his shaft as he cursed out loud. Now that the ring was fastened she knew that all he had succeeded in doing was engorging his cock even further. She hummed against him and then sat back.

"Now you won't come so fast. And when you do-" and here she tickled the skin right below his balls, watching as his eyes became unfocused for a second, "you're never going to forget it." She smiled at that, a sexy, lascivious leer.

She placed her hand on his chest and lightly pushed, until he fell backward on the bed. She crawled over his body; his stiff dick nestled in the crack of her ass, as she slowly pumped up and down.

"I'm going to fuck you hard now. Going to make you beg." She stood up and saw the find sheen of sweat that covered his body. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes." He hissed the word, his pupils completely dilated.

She lifted her body up and moved so that the very tip of Eric's stiff cock was engulfed in her wetness. She leaned forward so that her face was just an inch away from his, as she stared into his eyes.

There was always that one perfect moment when she went in for the kill, that delicious sense of invincibility and inevitability as the stake drove home and the vampire exploded. She could feel the power building inside of her right now and she hoped that Eric wouldn't let her down.

"There's one more thing. If you don't agree, it will just like before. We'll just go our separate ways."

He could barely think straight, but he managed to choke out, "What?" Half question, half annoyance.

Moments later, Eric wondered why the hell he had agreed to this last bit of insanity. But as Buffy's hot, wet pussy clamped hard around his dick, giving him the massage of his life and forcing an almost unnatural yelp from his lungs, he suddenly remembered exactly why.

As he lay back against the pillows for a moment, panting like a dog left outside in the Texas heat, his gaze slid to the large dark, fucking scary guy now next to the bed. He was tall, but not outsized, only six feet or so. However, he was the broadest man Eric had every seen with shoulders the width of a doorway and hands the size of catcher's mitts. The man's waist was surprisingly narrow but the effect wasn't delicate in the least. The black silk shirt and black leather pants clung to a muscled physique that must have required an hour or more of daily gym work to maintain.

Angel. Eric couldn't imagine a more misnamed human, because as far as he could see this guy was more on the devil's side of things. He had a large, overhanging brow, a straight, somewhat oversized nose, eyes so dark they appeared to be black and a wide mouth pressed firmly into an unforgiving line. There was an arrogance and danger that radiated off of him and the way Angel was staring as Buffy began to sink hard onto Eric's shaft unnerved him more than a little.

Buffy twisted her hips just a bit and the resulting friction went straight from Eric's crotch down his spine and out through his fingers and toes. He found that he didn’t really care about Angel, not when Buffy was so deliciously wet and warm, her hands skillfully caressing his nipples, her body moving faster above his. She threw back her head and cried out, the shockwave of her orgasm transferring to him, making him somehow even harder, his cock aching to release.

With a pang, he felt her lifting herself off of him. And then surprised, he realized she wasn't lifting herself as much as she was being lifted. Angel had placed his hands around her waist and effortlessly hoisted her up and onto the floor. He walked her over to the wall that was directly opposite the side of the bed.

"Put your hands against the wall and don't move." He pressed his knee in between her thighs, forcing them apart. "Keep your legs spread." Staring at her, Angel let his gaze wash over her, stepping close enough to loom over her. Slowly, he ran his hands up her sides, sliding from her waist upwards and firmly stroking her breasts each time. "Lover," he whispered into her ear as she shuddered. In one harsh move, he pulled her breasts back out of her bra. He pushed on her back until her nipples were grazing the wall. Stepping back, he slowly slipped his belt from the loops. Holding onto the buckle, he wrapped the belt around his hand several times, feeling the eyes of the other man upon him. Twisting his wrist, the free end of the belt whipped through air, sharply slapping her against the ass.

"What are you doing?"

"Thought it was obvious." The belt sailed through the air again. Buffy didn't make a sound and didn't move.

"You're hurting her." Eric' s voice was panicked.

"She's a lot hardier than she looks."

"I didn’t agree to this. Buffy said it was my choice."

Angel stopped and turned toward Eric, who was still lying on the bed. "This has nothing to do with you. Whether you stay or go, isn't going to change what's happening right now." He punctuated his words with yet another lash against her rear.

"You're her boyfriend. You shouldn't treat her like this."

Angel's hand dropped to his side and he took a step toward the bed. "What do you know about us, about our relationship? What do you know about love?" Angel mocked. There was a cruel cast to his face and as Eric watched, he swore that Angel's eyes glinted yellow. Eric closed his eyes, a deep-seated instinct telling him to run but when his eyes opened again, Angel looked perfectly normal. In fact, Eric swore he saw a brief flash of longing flit across Angel's face.

"Have you ever been perfectly happy?' The question caught Eric off guard and he had no idea how to answer. But Angel didn't wait, just kept talking.

"I'm talking about transcendent bliss, seeing God, a single moment where your soul is at rest. She gave me that. And because of it, I lost everything." The belt sliced through the air again, this time hitting her against each cheek, although it seemed to have less power behind it this time.

"Of course, at this point, you wouldn't think that would be possible again. Since then, the things I've lived through, the people I've lost, the things _I've_ done. But gypsies are smarter than that. It seems that whatever brought you completion that first time is going to do it every time. After all, monsters don't deserve even a small amount of comfort."

The words were the words of a lunatic. It was the only thing that made any sense. It was just as obvious that Angel was close to the edge and this time as he flicked his wrist, the crack sounded like a lightening strike. Buffy's flesh not only sported a deep red mark, but her right cheek was cut and a thin line of bright crimson appeared.

Eric expected that this final bit of cruelty would push Angel over the line but instead he dropped the belt and stood directly behind her. He fell to his knees and gently put his hands on her thighs, almost completely covering her upper legs. Then he leaned forward and licked her blood, his tongue delicately following along the cut. His face was pressed against her bright red flesh. "Buffy," he whispered against her.

A tremor traveled underneath her flesh, the only time she had flinched. Eric couldn't tell if the sound she made was a sob of pain or a moan of ecstasy.

Buffy's shoulders shook just once but Eric wasn't sure her movements were caused by the thrashing Angel had just delivered. And Angel looked positively beatific, a penitent at the altar. Considering he had just licked every drop of blood off her skin, Eric was becoming more and more weirded out. This was kinky shit that he really didn't want to be involved in. But before he could put his thoughts into action, Angel was standing next to him again, his eyes once more dark and dangerous.

He turned back toward Eric. "Did watching that get you hot?"

"No," Eric gritted out. "I told you to stop."

"No need to be embarrassed." Angel grinned conspiratorially. "I know it did. Your cock is so purple that you might shoot your load even with the ring on." He bent down, his voice friendly. "Look at how pink her ass is. Same color as that garter belt that's framing it so prettily." Eric made a low, helpless noise. Angel stood up and placed his hands on Buffy's waist, his broad hands easily encircling her. He walked her backwards until she was right up against the head of the bed. "It turns her on also. Smell that cunt? You can see how wet she is." Angel reached over and firmly grabbed Eric's wrist. He guided Eric's fingers into Buffy's wet center, while dropping to his knees. He was now at eye level with Buffy's sex.

"Stroke her lips. I want to see her squirm." She was already panting harshly, every muscle tensed. "Push three fingers deep into her hole and pull in and out nice and slow."

"Angel, please." Buffy's voice was harsh with need.

"Please, what?” he whispered.

"Please," she moaned again. She was trembling now.

"Tell me."

"I want to come," desperation making her voice low and husky.

Angel didn't say anything, just waited until Buffy's whole body was shaking. "Do it," he said. "Ride his hand hard."

Instantly she began to slide her slick flesh back and forth hard against Eric's hand, bearing down her clit against his curved fingers until she was screaming over and over and over. Finally, she collapsed to her knees, soaked with sweat.

Angel grabbed Eric's hand once more and sucked the juices off of each finger with a slow, sensual swipe of his tongue. "I've gone down on a thousand women, more probably and her cunt still tastes the best," he mused. Eric trembled, his eyes tightly closed, his head bowed.

"Your dick must be ready to explode by now." Even with his eyes still shut, he could hear the smirk in Angel's voice. "Buffy." The single word was a command, not a question.

She walked to the foot of the bed, making it clear by pushing and pulling that she wanted Eric to lay flat on his back, knees bent, feet spread apart. She placed a pillow underneath his butt. "Time to make you feel good, Eric."

She began to massage his ass, her fingers sensuously kneading his skin, almost touching his balls and cock, but never quite getting there. His cock was standing straight up, the tip wet. He tried to push back into her teasing hands but she was quicker than he was. "Fuck," he moaned. She stepped away at that point.

She knew that he had to be aware that it was Angel touching him now. His hands were twice the size of hers, twenty degrees cooler and they were covered in lube. But he continued to keep his eyes closed, moaning even louder, as Angel continued the slow torture.

As always this was what Buffy had been waiting for, caught between jealousy and desire. She was focused solely on Angel's strong hands, as he caressed Eric. Eric unconsciously opened himself wider, inviting Angel's touch. She gasped at the sight and giving in, she spread her own legs wide. She began to slowly tease her over sensitized flesh.

“Look at her, Eric. So turned on by watching.” He turned slightly, sensing Buffy staring at them. Her tongue flicked against her lips as her fingers began to glide over her swollen folds. “I taught her to love this, to love being a voyeur.” Angel's voice was so low that Eric couldn't tell whether Angel's words were said in pride or in shame. “You like watching her just as much, don't you?”

He began lightly teasing Eric's exposed hole, whisper-touching the skin. Eric jerked roughly against Angel's fingers. He wasn't too surprised that Eric didn't bother answering his question. Long minutes crept by and Angel could sense something primal in Eric begin to unfurl as Eric began pushing back, looking for more friction.

"Good boy." Angel slowly pushed a finger in, crooked it when he got to the right spot and was rewarded as Eric lifted off the bed as much as possible, grabbing the sheets in his fist and twisting his body. He added another finger, not going as slowly this time, opening his body up.

An almost animal-like cry was wrenched out of Eric. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

Buffy's head moved more firmly over her sex now, her thighs sticky with her own juices. She had learned how to keep herself right on the edge and that's what she did now, even as her breathing harshened. In a rare moment of confession, Angel had once told her there was no bigger thrill than getting someone to beg for something they really didn't want. That power was the biggest aphrodisiac of all. She hadn't asked how their relationship fit into that paradigm. She stared at Angel and Eric, knowing that her orgasm would soon be upon her and that once again it was because of the truth of Angel's words.

"Ever been fucked by a man, Eric?"

"No." The single word held fear and desire, submission and need.

Removing his hand, Angel opened his pants and pulled his cock out, not undressing any further than necessary. Pouring a generous amount of lube into his hands he quickly slicked himself up. Bending forward, he removed the cock ring and tossed it aside. Then he positioned himself and pushed forward hard enough that the head of his dick disappeared into the other man's body.

Angel stilled at that point and turned his head. Buffy had moved the chair so that it was now near the foot of the bed. She had tilted her pelvis and placed her feet on the edge of the mattress. The straps from the garter belt looked like stripes on her thighs, pointing directly toward her glistening sex. Her hands were busy pinching and rolling her nipples, but he knew it wouldn't be long before her hands traveled back down her belly. She was a study in wantonness, an exquisite slut. He tore his gaze from her, lest he come right then. He turned to look back at Eric. Eric's dick was weeping come and it was a dark angry red, the tip almost burgundy. "What do you want, Eric?"

"Please, please." Eric's eyes were unfocused, his voice full of lust.

"Tell me what you want. Tell me you want me to fuck you hard up the ass."

"Yes, do it, fuck me."

Buffy watched as Angel's eyes turned amber. Her muscles tensed while the air became thick and heavy, making it hard for her to breathe. She looked away and when she caught his gaze again, all she saw were eyes the color of the midnight sky, cold and empty but human. She shut hers, concentrating on her approaching orgasm.

He was leaning over the other man, almost a copy of the position Buffy had been in earlier. He let his weight settle on Eric, trapping his hard cock between their bodies. He pulled in and out slowly at first, with every thrust going deeper until Eric was eagerly shoving back against him. He was fucking him full bore now, his balls smacking against bare skin. He lifted his body up and reaching around began fisting Eric's dick, sliding his hand from the base to the head. He could feel his own release approaching and rammed in further while squeezing Eric hard. Thick ropes of semen erupted from Eric, his cock twitching like a fish caught on a line.

Buffy had reopened her eyes, scanning Angel's face intently. His expression was a study in lust and passion and she watched as his body shook with his own release as he silently mouthed her name. Her own orgasm immediately followed.

Scarcely five seconds passed before Angel was gone from the room.

As usual, Buffy stayed behind. She just thought there was something rude about just disappearing. She grabbed some clothes and slipped under the covers, modesty overtaking her earlier boldness. She kept her back to Eric so he could dress in private.

Predictably, people fell into two categories. The ones who dressed hurriedly in silence and quietly slipped out the front door. And the ones who began to talk, dropping not so subtle hints as to when all three could hook up again. Eric had been quiet so far and that was fine with Buffy. She felt wrung out and a bit sore. All she wanted was to take a hot bath. At that point, Eric cleared his throat and Buffy sighed inwardly.

He twisted around so he could look at Buffy. "He's dangerous."

"Angel?" she said, honestly shocked.

"You should get out while you can before he seriously hurts you."

She almost laughed at that. Instead she simply said, "He would never hurt me."

"You deserve better than to be the beard for a semi-psychotic gay man. And I'm not saying this because I think I stand a chance with you. I just don't want to read about you in the paper."

Her voice became icy. "You don't know the first thing about Angel. Or me. You need to leave."

He turned back toward her when he got to the bedroom door. "Be careful, Buffy" and then he was gone.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and leaned her head down so that her body was curled into a tiny ball. She had put on one of Angel's gray crew-neck sweaters and it was so long that it could almost be worn as a dress. It smelled like him.

She looked up when Angel came into the room. His hair was wet and sticking up oddly and he was only wearing a pair of loose cotton pants. For a second, she hoped that with the shower going, he hadn't heard the conversation she'd had with Eric. But looking at the way his shoulders hunched inward, his considerable bulk somehow diminished, the way he looked only at the floor, she knew he had heard every word.

"Angel," she said softly.

"He's right, Buffy. One of these days…"

"He doesn't know anything." She got off the bed and stood in front of him, so close that she knew he could taste her breath, see Eric's sweat dried upon her body, feel the heat wafting from her skin.

She put her hands on his shoulders and kept them there until his eyes slowly fluttered shut, his body bowing toward hers, his forehead leaning against hers. Her hands slowly moved down his arms, caressing the hard muscles of his triceps, wrapping her hands around the inside of his elbows until the skin there warmed up, trailing downward as her fingers lightly touched his wrist, looking for something that would never be found.

"Don't worry. Everything's going to be fine." _It would have to be, because what other choice did they have?_


End file.
